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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979051">solertia dolore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/calarinanis/pseuds/calarinanis'>calarinanis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, During Canon, F/F, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, Unhappy Ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:34:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979051</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/calarinanis/pseuds/calarinanis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hild is severely injured and Gisela tends to her which leads to impossible feelings blooming within her heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gisela/Hild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>solertia dolore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Darkness pervades her vision, a blue-black swathe that stretches from edge to edge with only a blurry yellow moon to guide her way. She takes a step forward, the ache in her legs burning as her foot hits the ground. The stench of roasted meat hits her nose and she feels her stomach turn in disgust despite the hunger that roars in her stomach. It had been nearly a full day since she had eaten and yet she knew from experience the meat would be too much on an empty stomach. She tries to hurry, her pace quickening so that she can reach her chamber before her legs give way. A sticky substance slowly drips down her cheek until she can ignore it no longer. She reaches to wipe it away. </p><p> </p><p>Blood. </p><p> </p><p>The crimson tinge to her fingers is worrying, perhaps the injuries she had sustained were worse than she had believed. Her head begins to swim, the torches surrounding her seeming to multiply before her very eyes and the cross she holds in her hand for comfort seems so very foreign. </p><p> </p><p>“Hild.” She hears the voice, soft and melodic, through her haze of pain. </p><p> </p><p>Turning to face the speaker, she tries to force the words out of her throat and yet she cannot as they are stuck like bees to honey. Swallowing, she tries again. And again, she fails as the dryness controls her throat. </p><p> </p><p>“Hild, you are gravely injured.” The voice is shot through with worry as her tired eyes narrow on its owner. </p><p> </p><p>Gisela. </p><p> </p><p>Gentle arms lead her, her body too tired to protest, and she is dimly aware of Gisela supporting her every step of the way. She thinks to herself how strong Gisela must be under her layers of flesh, of the steel undoubtedly in her spine and almost laughs with the absurdity of her thoughts. Truly, her injuries must be far worse than she had imagined. A tender hand dabs away the now-congealed blood from her forehead as it pushes her down into a chair with a hard, wooden back. The touch is reassuring. There is also a feeling she cannot identify with words or perhaps it is simply strange to be fussed over in such a manner. Soft hands, light as clouds, unlace her armour to check over her injuries with a pleasurable caress. </p><p> </p><p>“You must drink.” Cold metal meets her lips as Gisela’s warm brown eyes stare at her with worry. </p><p> </p><p>She attempts to sip, her throat still sore but she manages a little of the ale. It is bitterer than most and has the faint taste of herbs. She takes another sip. Warmth begins to flood into her body as more and more of the liquid makes its way to her stomach. “Gisela, this-” A cough wracks her body, forcing her to stop.</p><p>“It is ale with some healing herbs, nothing more.” Hild watches as Gisela moves around the room, every movement imbued with grace.</p><p> </p><p>Silence alights upon the room. </p><p> </p><p>Neither of them speaks a word as they busy themselves in their roles as the injured and the healer. Hild quietly drinks her concoction under Gisela’s watchful eyes whilst feeling the day’s tiredness sink into her shoulders. She realises that in this lighting, Gisela’s brown eyes hold flickers of gold and are settled directly on her as if to observe her every movement. She sets down the metal cup with a clang, her battle-scarred arms clumsier than normal with the pain still seething through them. She also becomes aware of the tiny details scattered across Gisela’s face such as that one eyebrow is slightly higher than the other and that there is a fine line almost like a scar running parallel to her nose.</p><p> </p><p>An odd pounding begins in her heart.</p><p> </p><p>“How is the pain now?” Gisela asks as she sits on the chair opposite Hild.</p><p> </p><p>It takes her two tries to open and close her mouth before she is able to speak but Gisela is patient. “It has lessened now, thank you.” She pauses to suck up some more air before continuing. “Lady Gisela, I’m so grateful-”</p><p> </p><p>“You are my friend, Hild.” She cuts Hild off as she takes her hand. “I would not be able to bear it if something had happened to you and you must not call me Lady.” </p><p> </p><p>The softness of her hand sends strange shivers down Hild’s spine as she realises quite how close she is to Gisela. “You are too kind a woman.” She hesitates a moment, the words catching in her throat. “Truly, though you do not believe in Him, I believe you to be sent by God.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps.” A smile appears on Gisela’s face. It is a radiant smile, bright enough to light up a world. “Perhaps, your God and mine are the same.”</p><p> </p><p>The words are blasphemy yet Hild does not feel the offence; rather she cannot bring herself to move from this moment. She feels her heartbeat grow quicker as she stares into Gisela’s soulful eyes, so wise and yet so full of mischief. A smile grows on her own face, though not nearly as beautiful. Hers is too eager a smile, too normal in comparison to the luminous radiance of Gisela’s. She takes a deep breath. The thoughts running rampant in her mind are not to be encouraged, she must calm herself down. She cannot give in to these peculiar feelings nor to the blasphemous images flashing through her mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Laughing together as they walk arm-in-arm, Hild feeling the fullness of Gisela’s body pressed against her own.   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hild daring to press a kiss to Gisela’s forehead as if they were lovers rather than mere friends. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Waking up in the same bed rather than the cold and lonely one to which Hild had become accustomed. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hild.” She feels Gisela touch her arm and her mind returns from its reverie. “Are you well?” The smile has disappeared and now Gisela looks at her with concern once more. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” The word jumps out of her mouth as she tries to steady her heartbeat. “I was just lost in thought about our Lord.” She feels the lie burn her tongue but she dare not speak the truth and offers up a silent apology to God who undoubtedly was condemning her soul at this very moment. </p><p> </p><p>“I understand.” The smile returns to Gisela’s face though no longer quite as bright as if dimmed by her own distant memories. “Will you stay for dinner? I am sure Uhtred will enjoy your company.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mind demands she leave whilst her heart pleads to stay. “Not today, although I am very thankful for your help.” She stands up, the pain in her legs greatly diminished. “Finan has already demanded my presence with his Irish manners.”</p><p> </p><p>Another lie yet this one cuts deeper into her heart. Surely, she should be apologising to God though all she can think of is Gisela and how she cannot bear to watch her with Uhtred tonight. She recites the Lord’s Prayer within her mind as she leaves, trying to focus her attention back on God and not even noticing how forlorn Gisela looks at her words. She steps out into the cool, fresh air of the night and her mind begins to clear. It had been a moment of weakness, a desire to be comforted and nothing more. Her gait quickens and the blood is pumping through her veins as if to start anew. </p><p> </p><p>God is the one to whom she is devoted, even now when she is nothing more than a warrior and nothing near to a nun.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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